A/N: Written for the Monthly Het-tastic Drabble-Athlon Competition. Prompt 4 – angel.
The Slave, the Prince and the Angel
4: Angel
Angels came and went with the mist: this Severus knew, and yet he could not help but look to the mountains as the sun bathed their peaks a golden glow. There was no flaming head of hair though, no fire that shone like a beacon of hope from that mountain peak.
Still, he found his gaze sneaking up far more often than most, until not even his straggly bangs could hide his stealing looks, and a heavy whip cracked down upon his back. The stinging welts brought him back to earth somewhat and he renewed his interest in his work.
That afternoon though, the mountaintop became covered in mist again and his attention was drawn to the beautiful flame at its peak, and he knew, he knew, that there would be no eternal rest from him after that.
He was a new slave, not one bred for servitude, and as such he knew well the lore of the noble-folk. He knew that angels knew nothing about their concept of love, and a human's lust was something both curious and disgusting to them – but how could one lust after a beacon of hope on a mountaintop? A beacon whose very shape and form were hidden by the mist?
But then again, how could he, a bitter and worthless slave, fall in love?